Beautiful unfolding, of a love that will never be
by shrinkingxvioletx
Summary: or maybe be? Robb/Jon, angst, AU based on the show - what if Jon had left to Robb's side when Sam and his friends stopped him at the wall? some 'hidden' history on the two. 2 POV.
1. Writers Note

I got addicted to Game of Thrones lately – which is why my first fic is kind of on hold until my inspiration for the verse comes back.

I totally ship Jon/Robb – say what you will, I just love the two of them, and their never-gonna-end-happily love. I guess I'm just a sucker for torment.

It says on my page how I roleplay.

And I started roleplaying out a Jon/Robb pairing with a friend. And I figure since there can never be enough fics on this, I might as well post our RP up right?

Updates are probably gonna be faster cause we do RP pretty fast, when we're into a pairing.

I'm doing Jon, she's doing Robb – so it's going to be in two points of view.

The girl doing Robb has a fanfic account too so here : .net/~stephenherondale

I don't know what else to say, enjoy? xD


	2. Coming Home

Jon had a difficult childhood. Being the bastard son of Ned Stark did not get you many good memories; true, the man didn't abuse him or anything as he could have, but he didn't have the warmth of a family growing up. He didn't have a mother that would spoil him, or sit by his side when he was sick – he didn't have the things his siblings had, but at the very least he had siblings. They never discriminated against him – the younger ones clung to him, because he had time to play with them, and Robb… well, Robb was a whole other story. Robb had been there for him from the start – when no one was there for him, that boy was. If there was some important dinner that Jon wouldn't be allowed to attend, Robb would sneak out in the middle of it and eat with Jon in the kitchen. He was much more than a brother to him; he was the only real family he had. The boys would play, they would fight – and then an hour later they would pretend the fight never happened. It was hard on Jon, not being part of the family, looking at everything as if through some window, observing but never participating. It gave him time to wonder about his own past – who his mother was, where she was, if she even knew he existed. The questions he never got answered grew in him day by day.

After time, something had happened to Jon – something absolutely strange. At first he didn't even realize – after all, the boy who was rarely even shown love, how was he supposed to know when he fell into it? Especially since the object of his affection was someone so completely wrong. When it was someone who wasn't even supposed to be it. The first time he realized it was when he was 14. Robb had found himself a girl that liked him – and he was about to sleep with her. They were talking about it, goofing off, but then when the girl was mentioned Jon would get stiff. His body would feel this strange stirring pain, as if something was stabbing him, and clutching his heart. He didn't know what it was at first – but it kept repeating every time he'd see Robb with a girl; this issue would have been perfect to ask your mother about, only he didn't have a mother to ask, so he kept it to himself. It was a year later that he realized what the searing pain in his chest actually meant.

He was in a room with a beautiful girl – she had fiery red hair, and a perfect body; not to mention she was naked, and she was a whore, so there was no relationship issue to be met here. He'd decided it was time to lose his virginity – after all Robb teased him constantly that he clung to it as if he was a little girl. He was standing there, the woman practically throwing herself at him, her breasts pressing against his chest, her petite frame fitting perfectly into the curves of his body – but he felt nothing. And when she kissed his neck, and he closed his eyes, the face that came into his mind was one he knew better than anyone – Robb's. And that was when he got any form of reaction, excitement. That was when he knew something was terribly wrong with him. He pushed the poor girl away, threw her the money, put on his clothes and ran off. He didn't know for how long he'd run, but by the time he stopped he was out of breath and heaving. It had happened, he'd finally lusted after someone, he'd finally felt something - finally fallen in love. And who did he fall in love with? His own brother.

**One year before present time.**

"Come on! Take another sip!" His brother urged him, as he shoved the bottle of wine towards him. Robb was laughing, and the sound sounded sweeter than the wine tasted to Jon – just the laughter was enough to get him intoxicated. It wasn't exactly like he'd come to terms with the fact that he had certain non-brotherly feelings for his brother – he just didn't deny it any longer. It was hard, and tormenting, to have to convince himself he felt nothing, he wanted nothing – only a brotherly relationship. During that time he'd found out that lying to yourself was the hardest lying you'd ever have to do – because even if your mind would actively convince you of one thing, all it took was one look from Robb, and the pounding of his heart that sounded all around him, would be enough to destroy all the convincing. He hadn't come to terms to it, but he stopped running from it. "Drink like a man, Snow!" Robb bellowed taking another chug from the bottle, as if to show Jon how a true man drinks – but by that time Jon's mind was so muffled by alcohol and Robb's scent that the only thing he really noticed was that drop of wine that escaped his lips and trailed down his chin, and chest – luckily his shirt was half-unbuttoned so it didn't really make much damage on the fabric; if Robb's mother had known they were drinking she would surely blame Jon, even though Robb was the one who initiated it, which is why not leaving a mark would be the safest way to avoid problems. "I think that's enough for you." Jon let out a dark chuckle, and took away the bottle from Robb – taking a chug, just to sate Robb's persistence – and put the bottle down. The liquid still on Robb's chin was grabbing his attention, annoying him teasing him, so with a sigh he reached his hand out and wiped at Robb's chin. "You drink like a savage not a Stark, there's wine everywhere." Without even realizing it, his hand had trailed the pattern of the drop, down the chin, and the chest – and the muscles that resided there. It was the muscles that made him realize what he was doing. He looked up, to see a Robb that had a very unreadable look in his eyes, only an inch away from him – so near that he could feel his breath on his skin, and smell the odor of wine it held.

He should have just backed off, laughed it off and kept the atmosphere light. But the wine, and the warmth of Robb's breath, and the scent of his body so close to him – it didn't make him act the way he should have. He wasn't even sure how it happened, but suddenly his lips were pressed against Robb's, biting down on his bottom lip, sucking it – which earned him a grunted moan from Robb. That was when all hell broke loose. Robb's hands twisted in his hair – and being the one with more experience – his tongue opened Jon's mouth and drew circles inside it, playing, teasing, arousing him. God, he knew that it was dangerous – they were both drunk and Robb was probably confused, and would regret this tomorrow, hell he might not even talk to him when he came to his senses, but he couldn't find the will within him to stop it from happening. They'd rolled on the floor so that Robb was on top, and Jon was below him – his hand unbuttoning the few buttons left on Robb's shirt; one of his hands dug into the small of his back, and the other ran across his chest, his thumb running over Robb's nipple – which earned him a shudder that rocked Robb's body. Robb pulled his hair and bit down on his lips so hard that it drew blood; he could taste the iron in his mouth. A blood that was similar to Robb's – not that it mattered anymore, for Jon it hadn't mattered for a long time now. After that, his memory went into a haze, but when he woke up, he was still dressed the same he was the night before, most of the buttons on his shirt were unbuttoned, and his hair was exceptionally tousled, but more than that nothing had changed, and Robb was gone.

The next time he saw his brother, Robb acted just as he always did – the relationship hadn't changed at all – as if that night had never happened. And maybe Jon would have thought that it had just been a very sweet dream, it certainly wouldn't be the first time Jon dreamt something like that. Yeah, Jon definitely would have thought it was a dream – if it weren't for the small wounds and swollen lip Robb's bite had left, that faded in a few days.

**7 months before present time.**

He'd made the decision, even before his uncle came into town – he was going to take the black, become the watcher on the walls. He felt like that would at least give his life purpose, because all he was then was just the bastard son, the runt of the litter; just like his wolf Ghost. The only thing that would be his reason for staying, the only thing he would stay in place for was Robb. He knew Robb would never ask him to do that and he was grateful, because he couldn't stay, exactly because of Robb. He'd been in love with him for years – but after that kiss, things just weren't the same for Jon. Sure, the boys acted the same, and Jon didn't let any of his feeling show acting only like a brother, commenting girls, doing all that was expected from him. But he would catch himself touching his lower lip with his fingers, brushing it gently as if it was delicate, as if the taste of Robb still lingered somewhere on them, as if the way his teeth bit into his flesh, possessively, the sharp and blissful pain that rushed through his body then was something he could still feel. He'd catch himself staring at Robb with such tormented longing in his eyes, that a panic would consume him over whether anyone had seen him stare like that. Yes, it was becoming harder with each day, to have to be around him, and suppress those disgusting feelings of his.

"Are you really going?" Robb had come to ask him the night of the feast, as he sat outside, forbidden to join in. When he looked at Robb there was that same unreadable expression in his eyes – something he'd never seen before, as if this new kind of emotion that was unknown to poor Jon. He'd expected this talk to happen, when he first resolved to doing it. "Yeah. I mean, what have I got left here? You'll be Lord Stark once father dies, and I'll always be the bastard." he muttered silently, and could see Robb opening his mouth, his eyes frowning – he knew exactly what he brother would say. He raised his hand, to stop him from speaking. "It's fine, I am a bastard. Even so, you'll always be my brother." He said putting his arm on Robb's shoulder, and squeezing gently. He wished he could do more than that, much more than that, but he couldn't and he never would –and once he took the black that would be official. Robb looked down at the arm grasping his shoulder, and back at Jon, opening his mouth as if he was going to say something, but then he closed it, deciding otherwise. "You won't be able to marry." Robb blurted out, probably something completely different than he'd wanted to say earlier, and bit down on his lip. Jon let out a strangled laugh, which probably sounded more desperate than he wanted it too, "I don't care about that." He said, honesty apparent in his voice – because it was true, he didn't care. The only person he'd ever want was someone he could never have or especially marry. Robb would be the one to marry – some beautiful girl from a powerful family, and they would have beautiful children. Jon? He wasn't destined for that life, not once Robb walked into it in all his glory. "Plus I'll be doing something important with my life." He added because he felt the need to, maybe he wanted to convince himself of the truth in those words, or maybe he just wanted Robb not to worry. His brother sighed, sounding pretty desperate – but Jon imagined it was because he'd miss his brother once he left, because that was only natural – they did grow up side by side. "If that's what you wish." Robb muttered and turned around, his robe circling around him like a cloak of night.

It was time to leave – despite Bram being in a catatonic state, where people said he might not wake up and others said it was quite likely that he would remain a cripple for the rest of his life. His uncle needed to go and Jon needed to go with him. Saying goodbye was the worst; he'd given Arya the sword he'd had made for her; and he'd said goodbye to the sleeping Bram, who looked so peaceful saying there still, – despite Lady Starks disapproving glare of hate, she will certainly be glad to see him leave. He'd said all his goodbye's except the one that he knew would be the hardest one to say – he hadn't said goodbye to Robb. In all truth, he didn't even know if he could do it, he was afraid that if faced with the fact that he would likely not see Robb in the nearby future, or hear his voice – he would back out. Just as he was leaving Bram's room his brother threw his hand around Jon's shoulders, and pressed him to his body. Jon's heart pounded loudly, and he pushed his brother away with a grin – not because he disliked the touch, but because he liked it a little too much "Get off me, Robb." He said, his voice laughing when he actually felt like crying, refusing to look up at his face. The two had silly chit-chat where they hadn't said anything relevant – talk about Robb's mother and how Bram would be all right - but there was this certain strain in their words, as if their mouths said words neither actually wanted to say. "Next time I see you, you'll be all in black." Robb said, his lips tainted with the weirdest smile – almost as if he was forcing himself to put it up there – and Jon replied with the replica of the same. "Well, black was always my color." There was a moment of silence between the brothers, and an exchanging of a look that Jon wished he could interpret. "Farewell, Snow." His brother had broken the silence first, the word Snow feeling odd – as if Robb knew he wouldn't be saying the name out loud any time soon. "And you, Stark." Jon had said, a small smile tingling on his face. _This was is_, he thought, _they would part now, and that would be it._

Only it wasn't it – Robb embraced him in a hug that felt warm and safe – a hug that smelled of fur and skin, and everything that Robb smelled like. He closed his eyes, his fingers clutching to his brothers back. The hug probably lasted longer than it should have, or maybe it just seemed like a blissful eternity to Jon – but the Robb pushed him apart, his hands still holding Jon on each side, gripping him firmly. The way Robb looked at him would haunt him forever – something he wasn't sure if his delusional mind had imagined or had wrongly interpreted. Robb's eyes, ignited, flaring this odd passion that made Jon's body warm all over, this feeling that wasn't desire, but an overwhelming need, a necessity, as if Jon was oxygen and Robb didn't have enough of it. For a moment, at least a fragment of a moment, Jon actually thought Robb was going to press his lips against his, that they would slam into walls never prying their lips from each other's as they tore their clothes off, throwing the sheds to the floor. But just as that scene replayed in Jon's mind, his brother had probably realized, this moment of staring had lasted too long, and without another word he turned around and walked away. Leaving Jon staring after him, with sadness over all the things that were left unsaid - and still lingered in the thick air around him.

The wall wasn't that bad. Sure, most of the guys there were thugs, or rapists, and they didn't really have any manners – but Jon was strong, and the best one at fighting and swordsmanship of them all – plus having Ghost around helped his case as well. So after a small amount of time, he'd gathered a circle of loyal friends, and kept the thugs at bay, at least from causing any real trouble. All the things that kept happening, managed to keep his mind occupied – but not as much as he had hoped. There wasn't a day he didn't think of his brother – not a night he didn't dream of him. Not one shower, he didn't imagine having Robb's wet body pressed against his as the scalding water ran down their backs. And when the other men talked about the ladies they'd had in their life, and the sex they had experienced, when they asked him if Jon had someone like that – only Robb came to mind, because Robb was the one who was embedded in the very fiber of his being, because Robb was the only thing that existed for him – even though he would never be truly his. So when they asked, and he looked at them – a sad smile rose on his face, and he replied. "No one."

**Present day.**

The wind blew against his face as he rode on his horse through the night – Ghost keeping step beside them. He felt guilty for acting the way he did towards Sam, for brushing his friends off even though they wished him well, but they didn't understand, they couldn't understand. He could barely keep his calm, when he knew Robb had gone to war – he wanted to go, wanted to stand by him – but eventually he managed to calm down, and tell himself that one man wouldn't make too much of a difference when his brother had armies at his side. But when word of his father's passing had come his way, he knew his mind would never be calm or sane again, unless he got to his brother as fast as he could. Robb would now be Lord of the North, he would take their fathers place, and all the responsibility would fall on him – and he knew that Robb would never let anyone know that if he was doubting himself, or afraid, which is exactly why he needed to be by his side – not only to keep himself sane, but to keep Robb sane too. He knew that he would pay this act with his life, as a deserter, but he didn't care – or well, he cared about his new friends, and about the work he was doing at the wall, but that couldn't compare to how he cared about Robb. From the start, from the first time Robb had smiled to him with kindness and love, from the first time the boys played and ate together, the first time Jon crawled into Robb's bed when they were kids, because he'd had a nightmare – ever since that time, Jon's life had never been truly his. It was Robb's, and he would live for him, just as much as he would die for him, there was nothing in the world, more important to him than that.

It had taken him 4 days to get to their camp – he'd bought a hooded cloak in a nearby town, so that no one would recognize him, or capture him before he could reach Robb's side. When he reached camp, one of the guards stopped him, asked him to identify himself – but Jon knew the boy, they'd grown up together and studied together, so when he took off his hood for a moment, there was a certain recognition that flashed through his eyes, and worry. Everyone knew Jon had pledged to the wall, everyone knew what this act of coming here meant, but as the boy let him pass, he could swear he saw a glimmer of admiration flash through his eyes. The boy had told him where Robb's tent was – not that he would need directions, as Lord of the North his brother would be sleeping in the largest tent. With shaky steps he walked through the space to the tent, and despite there being so many people, he felt as if he was alone in the world – only him, and the place where Robb was supposed to be. When he reached the tent, he froze in front of it. What if his brother wasn't alone? He knew the men going to battle would have whore with them, for entertainment, for release because of the stress – for various reasons. And if anyone needed to be release from the stress, it was Robb. Between the death of their father, the first battles Robb had ever fought and becoming new Lord over all these armies – he wouldn't be surprised if his brother had 3 girls keeping him company that night. But what was he supposed to do now that he had come all this way? Turned around? Wait? For how long? No. He was going to do this. He wasn't going to chicken out. With a deep breath, he pushed the curtains open, and walked inside.

The room was brightly lit, but he didn't spend time admiring the décor – his attention was quickly sucked in by the sight of Robb's back, bending over some papers. His heart stopped – after seeing him so many times in his dreams, in his imagination, seeing him in person after so many months was hardly bearable. He had to fight the urge to go there, wrap his arms around his brother, kiss every part of skin he would find uncovered – so he took a moment for himself to calm those urges, swallowing hard. He was here to be support for his brother in this time of war and grief, not to indulge in his sick desires – not that he would ever have a chance to anyway. He took only one more step – Robb had still not noticed him, he was deep in thought with whatever it was he was doing – and so he bit on his lip and uttered only one word that resonated through the closed space of the tent. "Robb." _He was home._


	3. Wash away the pain of yesterday

**Robb Stark POV**

There was a cold wind that settled over the field, bringing a soft chill to the tent that Robb Stark stood in. It was silent inside, the only noise was the pop of the candle he had to light his quarters. He felt alone and he felt cold. The tent was empty except for himself and Grey Wind, who slept peacefully near the makeshift bed Robb had for himself. He was bent over the table before him, trying to think about their next move, but his eyes only drifted toward the drawing of the wall. His heart ached at the sight of it and he had to close his eyes to try to fight the memories, but it only made it that much easier for them to come flooding into his mind.

_It had been Robb's bright idea to steal a bottle of wine and go off to drink it with his brother. Jon had protested, but Robb kept insisting telling him that it would be fun for the both of them. He knew that if they were caught that it wouldn't be Robb to blame but Jon and he knew that he'd stand up and make sure he was the one at fault. Even though Robb was a bit too drunk to even think about what would happen if his mother did happen to find the two. He kind of found himself not caring whether she did or not. Instead he found himself taking another long swig, feeling the wine trickle down his chin. He wasn't wiping it off either, he didn't have anyone to please and he was sure Jon didn't care how he looked. If it had been Jon with the wine on his chin though, he probably would have reached over and wiped it off, making a joke about it - and when Jon opened his mouth and did what he had just been thinking, he couldn't help but laugh once more._

"_You drink like a savage not a Stark, there's wine everywhere." Jon had spoken and his hand reached over, wiping the wine from his face. Robb found his breath getting caught in his throat, trying to find a way to breath as Jon's hand moved down and was not resting on his chest, his bare chest. Robb wasn't sure what to think, he knew he loved Jon, but did he love him like that? They were brothers, they shared blood, but did that really matter? Jon seemed to want more and when Jon's lips came crashing onto his own, he found the breath he was looking for and brought himself closer to his brother, getting lost in what was happening. The moan that escaped his own lips was one he hadn't expected but he could feel himself becoming turned on. It wasn't like the way he had felt when he first made love to a woman, it felt different, it felt more right to him. His hands tangled into Jon's hair and he pulled him closer, his tongue searching the inside of his mouth, memorizing everything._

_Jon's hand found the buttons on his shirt and Robb sucked in a breath, anticipating what was to come. Would they bed one another? He wasn't sure, but all he knew was that he could feel himself growing hard and that his cheeks were flushed as he bit down on Jon's lip, drawing blood. He hadn't meant to be so rough with him, but Robb found himself wanting more and if Jon didn't want him to do it, he'd have stopped him. Rob pushed his brother back, his hand finding the waist band of his brother's pants._

_When he awoke though, both were still fully clothed, well Robb's shirt was fully unbuttoned but both were decent. The sun was just beginning to rise but you could barely see it through the fog that was settled over the kingdom. He quickly fumbled with his buttons, pulling his furs over his shoulders, kissing Jon's forehead before dragging himself home._

_-|| How could he do this? How could he join the Night's Watch without even coming to him first? What about Robb's opinion? Didn't it mean anything to Jon? He wondered if his brother forgot about that night, the night they kissed. He wanted to yell at Jon, tell him not to do it. But Jon was stubborn when he wanted to be, it was a Stark trait or at least Robb though it was. He had refused to talk to Jon every time he encountered him that day, too frustrated to speak with him. He finally did talk to him, that night at the feast when he snuck food out for Jon. He hated that he was never allowed to join them, it angered him at times._

_They had talked and Robb had sounded desperate when trying to convince Jon to stay, but it seemed nothing he spoke would do the trick, nothing would change Jon's mind._

_-||The day it came for Jon to travel away, Robb found himself in his room, his hands covering his face as he let silent tears leave his eyes. He had never cried before, but today he finally crossed the threshold. His eyes were red-rimmed and he sniffed, wiping at his nose and face. He couldn't leave any traces that he had finally broke down. He didn't want his brother to go, but he'd never actually tell Jon that. As far as Jon knew, Robb was only frustrated with the fact he was going. Not that Robb was actually heartbroken over the fact. He loved Jon and not just in the brotherly way. He knew it would never work out, because Robb was suppose to marry a woman and have children and pass on the Stark name. He would take his Father's place as soon as that time came and then his children would do the same or Bram would when it came time if Robb happened to have all girls. He didn't want any of it though, he knew what he wanted and what he wanted was about to walk away._

_Outside, Robb went to find Jon, only to see him carrying his saddle. He had to force idle chit-chat but when it ended, he hugged Jon, forcing himself not to beg him to stay. He seemed to want this and how could Robb deny him what he wanted? He had to pull his eyes away from Jon and made himself turn and walk away. When he was in the privacy of his room later that night, he found himself holding a glove he had stolen from Jon. He was squeezing it tightly, once again letting the tears fall._

Everything was wrong. Robb stood up straight, rubbing his eyes. He was tired, but now was not the time to sleep. He had things to do and people to kill. He had sent the word to King's Landing and it would only be a matter of time before he received word back - a decline of course.

He stared down at the map, shaking his head. He pulled off his furs and tossed them to the side, pulling his armor and clothing away from his torso before slamming his fists down on the table. He received a growl from Grey Wind, which only made Robb look down at the wolf. "It's only me, go back to sleep." he wished it wasn't only him, he wished Jon was there with him, helping him through everything. He believed he could do this alone, but he couldn't. He needed help, he couldn't win this war by himself, he couldn't win it with all the men in the world. He wanted Jon here with him, he almost wanted to track him down himself and drag him back with him. He reached over and pulled one of the furs back over his shoulders, shivering once before closing his eyes.

"Robb." The voice made him pause and easily he turned around, not sure if his azure eye were deceiving him or not. Was it the lack of rest that had him hallucinating that Jon was standing in his tent. No...it couldn't be. "Jon?" Robb took a step forward, not sure to reach out or not. "Are you really here?" He took another step, his tongue wetting his lips. He couldn't decide whether to smile or get down on his knees and praise those above who had answered his wish. He let the grin slowly slide onto his lip and he crossed the room, taking Jon in his arms, hugging him tightly. "What are you doing here? You are supposed to be at the wall."

**Jon Snow POV**

Jon had seen his brother's lips move, but it was like this pounding consumed his head and muffled the sound. But one look at Robb said it all – there was confusion and surprise on his face, but there was also this immeasurable joy that pierced Jon deep within his soul. And he felt like those eyes were changing him – as if by not seeing him for so long he'd forgotten who he himself was – he felt as if those eyes were filling him up, awakening parts of him he never knew existed, making him into exactly who he was supposed to be, but with time forgot. And he let out a silent gasp of regret – regret for ever leaving his side. Even if his brother didn't love him that way, even if staying by his side would mean having to watch him marry and have kids, feel misery in silence – even through all that, how could he have ever thought that his place was anywhere without Robb? It was as if unknowingly, he'd left a part of himself with Robb when he left, and he only now got it back – now that he looked at his approaching figure, and the smile gleaming on his face. This was home to him – not Winterfell, or the Wall. He was home.

His brother wrapped his arms around him, and hugged him tightly to his body. Jon felt oddly calm, and yet incredibly excited as well – it was almost like he made his heart beat faster yet slower at the same time. He buried his face into the fur around Robb's shoulders, wishing he could just press his lips against the side of his neck which was now exposed. He let out s silent sigh that was muffled by the fabric, and let his emotions run rampant through his body – his temperature changing from hot to cold for the few moment the two embraced – all the feeling of his desperate love that was burned so deep within his heart the poor sucker never had a chance of loving anyone else. He let all the desperation and the happiness consume him, if only for a few moments, and then he took a sharp breath, and pushed it all back, as far back as it would go. Because from now on Robb would need his brother and he couldn't afford those feelings anymore – not when he was around the person that caused them. He pushed his brother back, but his hands clutched his shoulders still. "I was at the wall, but when I heard the words about you going to war on your own and our father dying…" he said, and let the rest drift off, because he wasn't sure how to explain exactly what it was he felt at that moment. "After that it wasn't much of a choice. I guess I'm one of the deserters now that father killed." He added, with a dark chuckle; there was only one thing he wished, and would pray for above all else – that when it came time to kill him for the act he committed, Robb wouldn't have to be one to make that judgment and cut his head off. Even though Jon would prefer to die by Robb's hand over anyone else's, he knew that toll such a thing would take on his brother – something he didn't exactly consider when he rashly decided to join his brother's side; he wasn't used to referring to his brother with such high authority, authority that their father had had before him.

"It doesn't matter, what's done can't be undone. What's important is I'm here right now." When the words slipped from his tongue, a corner of his lips pulled up. He studied his brother properly for the first time he arrived – and in the 7 months the two hadn't seen each other, he had changed, well, he imagined they both had. Jon had probably grown harsher, his face was covered with a 5 day beard because he hadn't had time to shave, his hair had grown more, and his lips had splintered slightly because of the cold. On the other hand Robb looked regal; he had this certain grace about him that always made everyone shift their gazes from whatever they were doing just to observe the Stark boy. He had a fire in him, a defiance, a strength that you felt exceeded simple muscle mass - that made him seem ignited, and as if he could crush everyone that stood in his path. And if Jon would be ice, Robb would be the fire that would melt him to the ground – now more so than he had ever been. Robb had changed, become more of a Lord, become someone who grew even further from Jon's grasp as he stood frozen in place – but Jon didn't mind, because seeing him, become so great, brought more joy to Jon than anything else had. He raised his hands from his brothers shoulders, and pressed his palms on each side of Robb's neck. "I'm here for you, whatever you need from me. Lord Star." He said, with a tone in his voice that sounded almost sacred, a small smile pulled on the corner of his lips, as he looked at the new King of the North.


	4. Everything will break

**Robb POV,**

The embrace that the two shared had warmed Robb's heart for the first time in months. He had been through hell and somehow seeing Jon was making things grander. There were things that Robb was feeling that he couldn't remember feeling before, it was almost as if everything he had felt for Jon the day he left, doubled in size. He had to bury the feelings down, because he couldn't chance it, he couldn't let his emotions get him killed in this war. When Jon pushed him back, Robb gave him an unreadable expression, one that he wasn't even sure of himself. He was confused and he wasn't sure what to think. Robb was speaking about their Father, but it was a subject Robb had been trying to avoid.

He looked away from Jon then, his arms folding over his torso. "I couldn't kill you. How could I kill my brother?" Robb swallowed, his voice cracking at the end of his sentence. "I have lost enough family to this war, I will not lose another. We haven't a clue what has happened to Arya, there is no word of her and Bran - I can only hope he is safe along with Rickon. Then there is Sansa, I fear for her as well. She is with that little bastard Joffrey. I hope to hang his head on a stick for what he did to our Father and my mother, I just sent her away, in hopes to gain another ally." Robb could feel the tears springing to his eyes and he grabbed his dagger from its case on his hip and drove it straight into the table, hitting King's landing on the spot. He let his body fall against the table and he couldn't hold back the sob that rocked his body.

How was he even king material? Here he was crying, crying in front of the only person he wanted to never show his weaknesses too. He turned around to Jon, his eyes bloodshot and red. "How am I suppose to be king when I cannot get myself into check?" He ran a hand through his hair and stalked around Jon, drawing his curtains on the tent shut tightly. His mind drifted slowly to the night he and Jon shared that kiss, wondering what would happen if they did it again, but sober. He hadn't even noticed what he was doing until he stepped towards Jon and pressed his lips to his brothers. Before Jon could react though, he pulled away, his face red. His hand came to his lips and he stepped back, clearly embarrassed. "I shouldn't have done that."

Robb was a mess. He couldn't breathe properly and his eyes were tired, he moved around Jon and pulled his furs off, dropping them onto his cot. He knelt down looking at the wolf whose eyes were locked on Jon. "Go outside and keep watch." He whispered the animal, giving him a pat before the command obeyed. Grey Wind rose and moved past Jon, his fur touching Jon's hand as he exited the tent. "Don't call me Lord Stark, or your Grace, or anything. I'm Robb to you, just Robb." His eyes locked onto Jon's and he shook his head. He had so much to say, but couldn't find the words to use. He just wanted to feel Jon's touch on his skin again, taste his lips on his like he had almost a year ago. "I just want you to stay." His voice was but a mere whisper and as soon as it had left his lips, it would have disappeared into the cold air, hopefully lost before it could reach Jon's ears.

**Jon POV,**

As Robb talked, Jon could feel the desperation creeping into his voice with each word. He knew it, he knew that he'd been dealt a hand that was too hard to just deal with by himself – he was still so young, and so much had been dropped on his shoulders. Everyone expected him to be calm and composed and everything a King was supposed to be, but under all that pretense, under all that stability Jon could still see his brother with an overly kind heart, who took everything personally. Just like that day with the wolves – it was him that had saved them, not Jon. Jon had just given an excuse, but he was sure Robb would have thought of something if it had been needed. When tears slipped from his lips, Jon's mouth opened in shock. He couldn't say anything, couldn't even convince him that everything would be fine – because such empty words would spoil this moment, would ruin everything. It was at that exact moment – the first time he saw his brother shed a tear – that he knew he'd done right by coming here. That even if he were to die tomorrow, he was glad he could be here to help his brother when he was on the verge of breaking down. He wasn't sure if there was any way he could help him, any way he could make the stress easier to bear, but at the very least he could stand here by his side, letting him know he wasn't alone – for as long as Jon lived he would never be truly alone.

He was just about to try and console him in some way, say anything at least, when Robb had turned around, marched towards him and pressed his lips against Jon's. It was only for a moment before he pried them away, and apologized, walking away towards Grey Wind. Shock consumed his body and he couldn't move – the world around him faded, sounds and even his sight seemed almost a blur. Why had he done that? He wasn't drunk this time around, and last time it was Jon initiating it – because Jon was the one trapped in this one sided love. Had Robb figured it out? Was he mocking him? Mocking him for having such inappropriate feelings for his brother? No. Robb wasn't cruel like that, and he would never do something to harm Jon in any way. But then why? Why would he do that? His heart thumped so hard he was sure everyone could hear it – people around the tent, people far away from the tent, everyone. It felt as if the world had been consumed by the sound of his heart, beating, racing, only for him. All the emotions he'd pushed away several minutes ago came rushing back. His heart thumped erratically – and it almost felt as if every heartbeat was actually a silent whisper of his name. _Robb. Robb. Robb._ Some silent plea, that rooted deep inside his core – a bone-deep desire that could never be satisfied, not even if he spent a hundred life-times always by his side. He knew then, that the way he felt for Robb, the love he felt for him, wasn't the kind of love that happened once in a life time. No, it was the kind of love that happened once in a million lifetimes – and asking the Gods, or anyone else, for something remotely similar to happen to this again, would be beyond selfish.

Yes, the love he felt for his brother coursed through his veins as if that was all that existed. Until he felt the fur of Grey Wind under his fingers and he was brought back to reality. He looked at the wolf in gratitude – wondering if he had known being shaken to reality was something he needed. He locked those feelings away again, though it was proving harder to do that this time around – after feeling his kiss after a year of constant thinking about it, constant replaying of those scenes he remembered through a haze. He needed to come back to reality – Robb was stressed, breaking down. He didn't know what he was doing, he just wanted release. In the back of his mind, a voice sounded, I wouldn't mind being his release if that was all he needed, but he quickly slapped that voice away, disgusted by the thought. What he wanted wasn't just physical – it was the way Robb felt. And since Robb would never be able to feel that way about him, teasing himself with his touch would only bring on more agony – as tempting as that thought was to his twisted mind. For a moment there, he even imagined hearing Robb say he wanted him to say, something he'd wished he would hear for as long as he could remember. And despite it all, despite deciding not to show how much he wanted all the wrong things that he desired, he heard himself whisper baerly loud enough to be heard. "I don't mind." Because he didn't mind, not at all. He definitely didn't mind the kiss, in fact he longed for a hundred more, a thousand more. And staying by his side, was the reason he'd come here – to be by him in his time of need.

He walked to Robb's side, slowly, keeping his eyes on him the entire time, trying to decipher all this nonverbal communication his brother was giving him – as if there was something he wanted to say but couldn't – and Jon understood that look perfectly, it had become a part of his everyday life. He reached out and pressed Robb against his chest – despite him being a little shorter than Robb he buried Robb's head in the fur on his shoulder and kissed the top of his head. "Don't try and control yourself. Let it out, your feelings. If you feel like crying, cry. A proper king knows that he doesn't always have to be strong just because he needs to appear strong to other people. Kings are human, they bleed, they die, they are allowed to have moments where they feel lost." He said, his voice quiet as he held onto his brother tightly. "But no matter how lost you are, you'll eventually find yourself, and rise stronger than ever. So just lose yourself every once in a while. I'll always find you." He added, even more silently, his grip loosening, but one of his arms still resting on his brothers back as the other lay tangled in his hair. "Things will sort themselves out. And you'll be great King. I've always thought that." He added, a small smile on his lip at that – he wasn't sure what he was saying at that point. Seeing Robb in such a state just broke him – made him want to, say something, anything to make him feel better, to make him feel safe. So he told him the truth, he told him how he felt in the only way he could without plainly stating how much in love with him he was.

**Robb POV,**

This was something Robb wasn't sure he could handle. Did he weep for the fallen? Did he weep for his family? Or did he weep because he couldn't have the one thing he wanted most. He was suppose to be the strong mighty King of the North, but here he was, crying in his brother's arms. Was Jon right? Was he able to let his feelings out? If he couldn't hold it together, his men wouldn't either. If they saw him weak, they would grow weak. He stared into Jon's icy blues and blinked once, letting the last tear fall. "How am I supposed to be a Great King if I can't hold it together? Have you ever seen a king cry Snow? Have you?" Robb's voice was low and husky, mostly because he had forgotten that there were still men up. Robb wiped the tears from his face and turned from Jon, not able to look at him. The more he looked at Jon, the more he found himself wanting to step into his brother's arms again, to let him kiss him like he had that night. He wanted to feel Jon's hands on his skin, he wanted so much more than a brotherly bond.

With a hard swallow, he peered back at Jon, taking in his brother. He still found himself weary that Jon was here, but the kiss had showed him the truth - he was here. It meant that Jon had actually broke his oath to come and that in all reality Robb was supposed to kill him - but how did you kill someone you loved? You didn't.

"What made you come? Why did you break your oath?" He brought his voice up, trying to sound more powerful then he felt. "You know the penalty for leaving the Watch." Death. The word kept echoing through his mind and he tried to speak but his breath got caught in his throat. Jon couldn't die and he wouldn't under Robb's command, but just how much longer would he hold that right? "Never mind that, let's not think of that now." He waved his hand, as if to insinuate the ending of the conversation and reached for a bottle of mead that was near his bedside. He brought the bottle to his lips, taking a long swig, before dropping his arm, his face tilted toward the floor. "What I want to know, is what changed your mind. What made you want to come to see the war?" Please say me, Robb thought briskly, his lips parting slightly. He just wanted to hear Jon say his name, he wanted to hear him say that he came for him and no one else.

He had that sick feeling in his stomach, the one he got when he realized over and over again that Jon was his brother and he couldn't change that. It was hard to watch someone from a distance and know you couldn't have them. Robb had tried for years to get rid of the feelings - he went from whores to townsfolk, but he never felt about any of them the way he did about Jon. He shivered slightly, a cold breeze entering his tent, making him remember he stood there his chest bare. Winter was coming, he reminded himself. Too bad the only snow Robb wanted he could never have.


	5. You're in my veins

**Jon POV**

There didn't seem to be a way that showing sadness or being overwhelmed wasn't a sign of weakness – it was just a sign that despite it all he still had a grasp on his humanity. That he hadn't gone mad like the Kind that had killed their grandfather – because feeling nothing when you've lost so much, could only make you mad. He wished there was a way he could show him, that if he just acted like himself he would have the love of the people – because he had all of Jon's love from the first time he just acted like himself. But Jon knew Robb was stubborn, and he would have to resolve his belief in how a king should act by himself – maybe it was just that he was so new to it, he wanted to make a good impression, and felt that there were no room for mistakes. But mistakes are things everyone makes – and Jon had made a few of his own. The time he'd decided to join the watch he didn't regret it the least, because it was something he wanted to do – something he'd always admired. He wanted to change himself, stop being Ned Starks bastard son and become someone else, someone strong, someone that lives depended upon – a watcher. No, he hadn't regretted that decision since he had made it – up until now. Because even though he'd learned a lot in his time at the wall, if it had ended like this, with him by Robb's side, in danger of being executed for deserting, then it would have been easier if he'd stayed from the start – but alas, no one knew what the future would hold, or of all the terrible things that would strike the Stark family. No one knew of the future that seemed to be written in the stars for his brother – but not for him. Robb had scolded him for coming – it was something Jon had expected, he put an enormous burden onto his brothers shoulders, one he was sure that if the time came, he would rather die by his own hand than let his brother be haunted by such a memory. If the time came, maybe then he would finally be able to tell Robb how he felt about him, how he'd always felt about him. Maybe, with his dying breath, he could show him the depth of his love.

"Because of you." He found himself answering his question, subconsciously – something that was meant to stay hidden, but left his lips none the less. He let out a sigh – it was too late to take it back now, and if he'd made a joke of it Robb would pull back, and probably kick him out of the tent – seeing as his face looked so devastated as he looked at him. "I didn't come to see the war. I came to see you. All this time…" he cut himself off before he'd blurted out another stupidity that he couldn't take back. "I worried about you. I worried how you would take all this. I told you already. I'm here to help you. However you need me, and whatever you need me to do." He said, on a serious note, but felt like he should have been making the situation lighter instead of even more intense and dark. "Don't expect me to start calling you Your Grace now though, you'll always be the boy who constantly stole wine from the cellar in my mind, and-" He bit his tongue, as he remembered that one time he'd stolen wine, and it had ended up a bit foggily. Somehow it felt like all the subjects he would touch seemed to be ticking time bombs – as if whatever he said, his emotions would be apparent. But honestly, looking at Robb look so miserable and desperate, did he actually care? Did he care what happened to him? Whether he lived or died? Whether Robb realized the intensity of emotions that circled through Jon's body, or the way his heart beat solely for him. No. The only thing he cared about was to see a smile on his brother's face – no, not even a smile, just any emotion besides the one that resided on it now.

It was as if something had snapped inside of Jon. He felt helpless, and miserable and angry at the same time and he thought to himself, no, you didn't leave the Wall for this, you didn't leave so he would stand here look like this, do something, do anything! Letting out a large sigh, he walked to Robb's side, so that they were an inch apart. "If you keep blaming yourself like this it's going to eat you up and you'll have nothing left eventually." He said, silently, despair in his voice, as if he was almost begging, begging him to just let himself feel whatever he needed to at that time, to stop pretending he was someone he wasn't. It was like his mind was consumed with a white haze filled with anger and despair and sadness over everything, everything that had happened to them in the past 7 months – none of which had been good. Only this, only seeing him. "Maybe you just need to be distracted." The words had left his mouth before he'd even had time to think, his body acting on its own, consumed with all this emotions overwhelming him. His hands clutched Robb's face on either side, and his lips pressed against his, possessively, as if to say yes, this is where I belong. His tongue ran across Robb's lips, prying them open angrily, as he pushed Robb against the bed so that they had almost toppled over. One of his hands tangled into his hair, while the other rested on his back, pressing him so tight that he had no choice, even if he'd wanted to free himself from this kiss. His hand warmed as it pressed against his bare back, the touch of his flesh arousing him more than a kiss should – and so he pulled his lips away, leaning his forehead on Robb's. He took ragged breaths, as he tried to still the beating of his heart and organize his thoughts. What had just happened?

Well, he figured, if he'd let him be kissed by Jon on two occasions already – or well, a few moments ago, it was Robb who touched his lips to Jon's, unless he'd imagined the whole thing – so he though, if words weren't doing the trick, why the hell use them? If he could distract him like this, even if he hated it, or if he didn't care who he was kissing or even sleeping with, even if this would mean nothing to him, or less than that – he didn't care, just as long as he could keep that expression off his face. Because seeing Robb sad, felt like an overwhelming wave crashing inside him, that refused to go away. It was almost like he could feel all the pain, only even worse – like it had doubled as it transferred itself from Robb to Jon. Even if Robb could never love Jon, or never will, it no longer mattered – just as long as he could keep his brother away from the darkness that could easily consume him. He took a sharp breath, their foreheads still connected – because his hand that was tugging at his hair earlier now rested on the back of his head, keeping it in place – and feeling Robb's breath on his skin, he had to fight the urge to just lick his lips then and there, to keep kissing him until his lips bruised and he could no longer feel anything. But he couldn't do it, he would wait until his brother pushed him away, told him to stop joking – because that was what Robb would do. Or if he didn't care, if he did truly want to be distracted like this, and the whores weren't working – who was Jon to deny him anything? "Distracted?" he asked, his voice more horse than he'd hoped. His heart still pounding so loud he was sure Robb could hear it too – did he know already? Did this confirm it for him? Did he know his heart beats for him? And did he enjoy the power – because if ruling was what he'd wanted, he'd overruled Jon's years ago – and Jon had been happy to surrender.

**Robb POV**

Robb let a laugh leave his lips and for what seemed like the first time that night, he actually gave a genuine smile. Even more genuine then the smile then the one had given when he first saw Jon. "If you called me "Your Grace", well - I would be a bit annoyed. They may call me their King, but you do not have too." He froze at the mention of the wine though, wondering if Jon's mind was lingering back to what had occurred that night. He didn't mention anything though, instead he began to speak again, sending words into Robb's ears, probably hoping that it was what he wanted to hear, what he needed to hear. "If you keep blaming yourself like this it's going to eat you up and you'll have nothing left eventually." Jon paused, his face unreadable and finally he opened his mouth once more the words pouring out. "Maybe you just need to be distracted." And then Jon's lips were on his and Rob could feel the heat inside his body bubbling over. He tried to kiss back, but Jon wasn't letting him. The other boy had the upper hand and they collapsed onto the cot, Jon's hands making it almost impossible for him to move.

He didn't mind though, Robb enjoyed the feeling. The weight on his body, knowing it was Jon and not some girl. He had been craving this ever since that night, not that he had ever tried to make a move at Jon. He never thought his brother actually wanted this, even though he had initiated it that night. He always thought it was just him who craved this, that wanted to more than just the brotherly hug here and there. Robb couldn't even get his tongue in Jon's mouth before he pulled back, his hand still warm on his bare skin. Fighting to catch his breath, his blue eyes watched Jon's dark ones carefully. He was hard, this had only done things to him that he felt he hadn't experienced in months. "I am very much so." His breath was shallow and he was still trying to gain it back and over the sound of his breathing he could also hear Jon's. Against his chest he could feel a pounding, but was it his own or Jon's? Robb leaned up and pressed his lips to Jon's this time, biting down on his lower lip, before sucking it into his mouth. He had to fight to get his hands out from under Jon's body and he locked his hands into his curls, holding his face in place as Jon had his. He was pressing his lips so tightly to Jon's that he was sure they'd both have bruises, but he didn't care. His hands left his hair, finding the furs that lined his shoulders and easily he pushed them away and onto the floor.

He probably should have stopped there, but his hands found the ties on Jon's pants, but his hands froze. "Do you even want me?" He words left his mouth before he could stop them and he looked at him with the same sad eyes that had consumed his face for days. He wondered if Jon was only doing this to get Rob's mind away from everything or if he actually did feel the same way. Jon had made the first move, but did it really mean anything? They were drunk, Robb probably more than Jon and even now, he had consumed a bit too much wine at dinner and then taken to drinking when he came back to his tent. Was this just some drunken dream he kept finding himself in? Dreaming that Jon actually wanted him?

His hand stroked Jon's cheek softly, his lips coming together. Robb had always been the more emotional one of the two - he had been the one to try and save lives rather than end them. It had done with the spy and he had done it with the direwolves. Time and time again he showed a weakness, but Jon never seemed to falter. Maybe it should have been him marching the twenty thousand men and not him. "You know, you deserve much better than myself." It was true, Jon did. He wasn't sure where the words had come from but when they left his lips, it was too late to take them back.


	6. You're all I taste at night

**Jon POV,**

In all honesty, Jon expected Robb would push him off – tell him it was enough joking for one day, laugh it off, wipe at his mouth, stare at him in shock – you know, do all of the stuff you would normally do if your brother kissed you. So when his brother looked at him, with those unreadable eyes of his and said "I am very much so.", his heart almost stopped beating. What did he mean by that? Did he actually want to keep doing this, whatever it was they were doing? Didn't he mind that they were brothers? Or was he just that desperate to feel something other than misery that blood and such things no longer mattered to him? Questions ran through his mind, in the few seconds while he felt Jon's breath on his face – enjoyed his warmth, and smelled the scent of sweat and skin that radiated from him and his bare chest. Who was he to judge anyway? Things like family, or blood, hadn't mattered that much to him ever since he'd first found out he'd fallen in love with someone he definitely shouldn't have fallen for. He'd never had an actual family – and if he'd had any form of family it would have been in his younger siblings. Robb – despite the fact he'd always considered him a brother, he was more than that. He was more than just simple family, or blood to Jon. Because if there was a soul mate in this world, someone who was everything you're not, someone you fit you so completely not with their body but with their soul – their existence – there would be no one on this Earth who could be his soul mate, besides Robb. And so what if they were half-siblings? It wasn't something he'd chosen, it was the hand fate had dealt him. To have a soul mate in a sibling – the kind of soul mate that losing him would stop your breathing, the kind of soul mate who'd made it especially easy to fall in love with despite honor, and family and glory. There was nothing left for him – only Robb. So who was he to judge?

It was Robb now who kissed him, and pressed their bodies closer together – so close he could feel Robb's erection pressing into his thighs. He'd reacted – which was good news at the very least, the fact that he was able to react. When Robb sucked at his lower lip, a strange whisper came out of his mouth – almost a silent groan – because this had been the one thing he'd missed since that night with the wine; feeling his tongue and his teeth on his lower lip – the lip that sometimes seemed to tingle with that sweet pain, despite the amount of time that had passed since. Robb lips pressed against him so tightly, with such furious need, that Jon thought for a moment he might faint – because this feeling of extreme pleasure seemed too much for him, a boy who'd known only torment and pain for as long as he could remember. He felt Robb's fingers twisting in his hair, pulling, as if he was trying to pull him even closer than he already was – as if he was trying to fuse their bodies together. Not that Jon would mind that – because there didn't seem to be any other way to quench this insatiable thirst he felt for Robb, even know, as his tongue explored the inside of his mouth, as his hands clutched at his hair, or pressed into his back or chest, the thirst was still here – wanting more, always wanting more – as if he was a thirsty man in a Sahara that had finally found water, but the thirst would always linger within him, as if a memory, a need. "Do you even want me?" He heard Robb's voice through the haze of pleasure – but the question sounded so ridiculous Jon had to resist the urge to laugh, because Robb's face showed his was serious, the sadness returning back to it. Was that what Robb was so afraid of? People rejecting him? People leaving him? People not wanting him? Was that why he was doing this, with his brother, because he knew his brother would never reject him anything? Gods, how he could even ask such a question was beyond him. He was about to open his mouth to explain how stupid that question was, when Robb gently caressed his cheek – not the way you would caress someone you were just sleeping with for entertainment and to take your mind from things. No, it was the kind of caress you would give to someone you cared for, someone you loved – and for a short moment until Robb spoke, Jon allowed himself the utter happiness of imagining that Robb had felt about him the same way Jon felt about his brother – something he knew was an impossible love but even so, it was his love, and no one could take it away. _ "You know, you deserve much better than myself."_ When he spoke those words though, something in side of Jon snapped, and a fury consumed him. Had he seriously said that? That the bastard son deserved better than the King of the North? Jon wasn't sure whether to laugh, or cry at this bizarre thought. It was Robb who deserved better – he deserved better than to be pinned down on this cot by his brother, better than being lusted after by a man. He deserved the life of a King that he was – a beautiful wife of some Nobleman at his side, a wife that would give him adorable children and happiness – an existence Jon could never provide him, but would sell his soul if he could. How could he say such stupid things. "Shut up." Jon bellowed, anger boiling inside him as he untied the hooded cloak that still resided around his shoulders and took of the shirt and furs he wore below it. He pressed his bare chest against Robb's – heartbeat sounding over heartbeat – and it seemed like they sounded in unison, as if they were one, which only pained Jon further. He trailed his thumb over Robb's lips, gently, much gentler than any of the kisses they'd shared had been, and leaned towards his ear. "Does it look like I want someone else?" He whispered gently, his voice still husky with the anger, as he bit down on his earlobe – licking it after.

He trailed kisses down his neck, gently, and slowly, sucking certain parts of it – but not hard enough to leave a mark – despite this overwhelming desire to mark Robb as his own, to leave a trace that he belonged to Jon, he knew that such a thing wasn't true, and that explaining how he got the marks would be tricky later on. His kisses lead him down the collar bone, and to the chest he always admired from a distance. His thumb ran over the nipple he'd touched a year ago, almost reminiscing in his mind for a second before being pulled to this blissful reality – and he pressed his hot lips against it. His tongue ran a circle around the nipple, and over it, gentle but still demanding – whishing he'd done that a year ago and had not waited for now – as his thumb ran over the one on the other side. His other hand reached over to touch the bulge in Robb's pants, and he felt a shiver rock Robb's body, as his hands grasped it, rubbing it gently. He wanted to look up, he wanted to see his brothers face, he wanted to see the emotion that played there – but he was afraid, so afraid. He wanted him to love Jon. Gods, he wanted it so much it was like a bottomless pit of despair had form itself inside him. He wished they were just farm boys, or regular folk, no one important – not a man who needed to produce an heir eventually, and a bastard of someone who produced one too many. He wished they lived in a world where Robb loved him, and could allow himself to love him. He wished so hard, it felt like it was tearing his soul in two, as he leaned his forehead against his brothers chest, warm breath tickling the nipple he'd been kissing. He wished he wouldn't love Robb so much. "Robb." The name came out of his voice with so much emotion, a blind man would know what it meant, his voice shivering. "Robb." He repeated it silently, so it sounded almost like a prayer. A prayer to any of the Gods, or all of them. It didn't matter what happened to him, it didn't matter if he died or lived the rest of his life in torture – as long as he could have this. _Gods, please just let him have Robb, and he would pay any price._

**Robb POV,**

Breath shallow, Robb closed his eyes and let Jon prove that his words were true. That he did want this, that he wasn't doing this to just get a rise out of the Stark, that he wasn't doing it just to bring him out of the almost comatose state he found himself drifting towards. Soft pants left his mouth when Jon's tongue found his taut nipples, the warmth of his mouth almost making him melt beneath his brother. His mind had been so far away, that when he felt the hand on his groin, his whole body trembled. It wasn't a horrible feeling at all, it was pleasure at its greatest and Robb's hands grasped Jon's hair tighter. "Your teasing is not fair, Snow." He murmured, his breath coming out in short spurts. He just wanted all of Jon, he wanted to bury himself inside him and take him as he should have a year ago. Untangling his hands from Jon's locks he dropped his hands to his pants, untying the cords on his pants. "Stay here, don't make a sound." He pushed Jon back and placed his lips on his before standing. He felt like he was floating as he walked to the opening of his tent, sticking his head out. "If anyone dares near the tent, attack...If it's Jeyne," His voice dropped lower, so Jon could not hear. "Advance, but do not hurt her, only scare her away." He gave the wolf a pat on the head and drew the tent shut tightly.

He turned on his heel and looked back at Jon, a small smile on his lips. He didn't want Jeyne - he wanted Jon. His mind faltered to the woman he had bedded only days before, in a haste to make himself feel better. She had tended to wound he sustained during one of the battles and he had found himself desperate and needed something to take his mind away from all the matters, but that night he found himself stricken with horror. He could barely keep it up that night and he had forced himself to see Jon before him and not her. It might this night so much better and as he crossed the short length back to Jon, he pulled Jon into him and kissed him fiercely. He kissed from his lips to his jaw, lightly biting as he reached his neck, taking his skin in his mouth, sucking hard. He could leave all the marks he wanted on Jon, because it wouldn't matter. No one would know who it was that left them and if Jon had left the watch, they would figure it was for one of two reasons. He had met a girl and they had run away together or he had come here to join Robb at war. How would they know that he hadn't bedded someone on his way here? They wouldn't. Falling to his knees in front of Jon, Robb worked his fingers through the laces of Jon's pants and pulled at them, his cobalt hues watching his brother's face.

His hands pulled the trousers down and he took Jon's length in his hand, stroking him. He had touched a man like this and he found himself nervous. He wasn't sure if he was even doing it right. He stood and let go, pushing Jon towards the fur lined cot "Forgive me if I do this wrong." He spoke softly, pushing Jon back, before sitting down beside him, his hand moving along Jon's manhood in quicker strokes. He leaned up, pressing his lips against Jon's again, his tongue making swirling motions inside his mouth. He wanted to taste him, but he would let Jon tell him what he wanted, if he would even do so.

**Jon POV**

Jon couldn't help but enjoy this whiff of power he felt – the ability to make Robb produce sounds like that, sounds that were so much better than they had been in his dreams. The feel of his fingers grasping his hair, made Jon want to moan himself – but he kept himself in check, after all, he was supposed to make Robb feel better right? Not allow himself to fulfill his dirty fantasies. He heard Robb mutter something about him not being fair, which made him grin, as his teeth grazes his nipple gently, and his thumb and hand ran over his bulge with more strength and speed. "Who ever said I would play fair, Stark?" He said, a smirk in his voice, as he raised his eyes to meet his brother, a devious glimmer in them. Robb's hands moved from Jon's hair, and went to undoing his own pants – which made Jon silently chuckle – someone was obviously eager. Which is why he was slightly surprised when Robb told him to stay in place, and gave him another kiss before standing. Was this it? Was this all he needed? A little bit of arousal and now he's going to go find someone else? No he'd said to stay here, and Robb wasn't the kind of man who would do such a thing – then again until this moment Jon hadn't thought Robb was the kind of man to act this way with his brother. Letting out a sigh that sounded more relaxed than he'd felt in a long time, and he threw himself against the pillow. What was he doing? One of his hands covered his eyes, while the other rested on his chest. He'd told himself he wouldn't go there, that he wouldn't get physical with Robb, when it meant more to him than it did for his brother. When he knew that there would be no way he could go back after this – if a passionate kiss was enough to make him yearning and to taint his memory every moment of every day for a year, he wondered desperately what this would do to his mind. It was too late though, he noted as his hand went from his chest to the bulge in his own pants, he couldn't bare to just stand up and walk away nor, he was too aroused for that and he didn't have that much strength of will – he didn't have much of anything when it came to Robb, it was like he stripped him of his reason and sanity and everything except this deep love and lust he felt for him. He heard Robb talking – probably to Grey Wind – but nothing much caught his attention, until he heard a females name mentioned.

"If it's Jeyne," his brother had said, and then his voice became too silent for Jon to hear. _Jayne. _The name made Jon have a vile taste in his mouth – that he knew quite well was likely jealous. So Robb had a girl in his life, that he knew well enough to call her by her first name. A girl that obviously wasn't a whore, because whores don't just come to your tent uninvited. This was someone he knew, someone that had probably been a part of his life, while Jon had been stuck on that Wall, spending every minute thinking about the brother he could never have. Why was he so surprised though? Why did it hurt so badly, he felt like he would cry out in pain? He knew this was just sex. He knew that for Robb, there were no emotions behind it – just curiosity and pleasure probably. He knew Robb would have to find a woman and marry – he just didn't think it would happen so soon, and that he would be close enough to watch it develop. His sour mood didn't last long though, because Robb was there, and he was pulling him into his arms, and he was kissing him, and his tongue was doing things Jon couldn't even imagine, and he was leaving marks on his neck that Jon was secretly glad for – he didn't care if he was discovered to be a freak or something anyway, he'd always been a bastard, might as well add bastard who loved his brother – wear what you are as a shield, someone had once told him. Then his brother fell to his knees, and Jon immediately looked down to see if he was alright – but his brother was already untying the lace on his pants, his blue eyes fixed on Jon. Jon's eyes widened at the sight – his brother, the King of the North, on his knees in front of the bastard son – it somehow didn't feel right. He should be the one kneeling, he should be the one giving his brother pleasure. And he was just about to open his mouth and voice his mind when his brother took hold of his manhood, and started stroking it with awkward movements that made it obvious he'd never done this before – and there was this sick feeling of gratitude over that fact somewhere within Jon. But as soon as he felt Robb's hand, stroke him, like he'd touched himself so many times imagining it was Robb doing it, his whole mind exploded and all rationality and sense disappeared – everything but the feel of his brothers hand stroking his throbbing cock that was growing with each movement of his hand. Jon's fingers tangled into Robb's hair, pulling it, because he couldn't grasp anything else, moans of pleasure leaving his mouth. Far too soon for comfort, Robb had stood up and let go – and Jon who had grown to be even more hard than he was, was ready to stab his brother with a sword if he'd left him like this. But it seemed that had been just the beginning as his brother pushed him on the cot and took his seat next to him, saying something Jon couldn't even understand.

Wrong? What was wrong? Well, this probably qualified as very wrong, since brothers didn't usually do this kind of thing. But seriously, even if it was wrong, it was far too late to stop now – and he hoped Robb felt the same about that. As if in response to his thoughts, Robb's hand found its way back to his hot cock, and started moving with swifter motions again, which made Jon clutch onto the fabric on the bed, and bite down on his fist to stop from making too much noise. That was when Robb's lips came crashing on his own, his hand still making him feel more pleasure with each stroke, and his tongue exploring his mouth with a passion – at which Jon couldn't help himself and a grunted moan escaped into Robb's mouth, as he clutched to his brothers hair, as if it was the thing keeping him bound to Earth – keeping him from simply floating into space, because that was exactly how he felt, like he was floating. But he didn't want to be the only one feeling it, it didn't seem right, because he was here to make Robb feel better, wasn't he? He could barely remember what he came here for in the first place, now, consumed with this feeling of burning pleasure as all the blood in his body focused on the part Robb's hand was rubbing passionately. "You Stark's, you talk too much." He mumbled now in response to his pervious statement, that seemed to have been spoken ages, ago, his voice rough with passion. His hand took hold of his chin, and he made his brother face him directly – his breath coming out in fast and shallow gasps. "If you stop doing that, I'll kill you." He muttered, his voice serious, before his eyes rolled back, and he pushed his head back, enjoying the wave of pleasure that rocked him. He didn't want to come yet, but Gods, if he allowed himself he could. He'd been ready to come from that first kiss, that first touch, that first caress – this was pushing it. His hand left his face and went down Robb's stomach and into his pants, pulling his dick out and mimicking the motions Robb was making. His cock was already wet, seeping, just as aroused as Jon had been, and he let out another moan of pleasure at the thought, that Robb was feeling the same as he was. His hands were firm, as they glided over his manhood, playing with a few fast movements, and slowing down before he picked the pace up again. He pushed himself further onto the bed, pulling Robb with him – one hand still stroking his cock as the other tugged at his neck and the hair there – so that they were now facing each other, their legs a tangled mess, where you could barely see which limb belong to who – so close Jon's head was leaning on Robb's shoulder, he took a few sharp breaths, before he leaned his forehead against his brothers. Using his index finger, he caressed the tip of his cock, as his other fingers slid gently along the rest of it. His tongue licked Robb's lower lip, and his teeth gently nibbled on it. "Do you like that, Stark?" he teased, his voice hoarse, as he quickened the speed his hand moved. "Do you want to feel more of me?" He asked, using the hand that was tangled in the back of his hair, to pull his head up, so that his neck was revealed – and he licked and kissed it, his eyes closed. Oh yes, Winter was coming. But Snow would make sure the Stark came first.


End file.
